


when the rain falls

by unbeat



Series: oh my god they were roommates [2]
Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Hand Jobs, M/M, Omorashi, Oral Sex, PWP, Sickfic, but it's slight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-15
Updated: 2018-01-15
Packaged: 2019-03-05 04:23:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13380099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unbeat/pseuds/unbeat
Summary: Jongdae loves being sick if it means Yixing is there to take care of him.





	when the rain falls

**Author's Note:**

> takes place after the first story in the series (yixing and jongdae are established by now), and i think the porn makes up for what wasn't written last time. the omorashi is kinda softcore, but if it isn't your thing, then feel free to pretend you never read this at all

Jongdae stares blearily out of the window from where he was wrapped in his blanket burrito. He can hear the sounds of city life beyond the glass, slamming car doors and purring engines filtering up from outside. Several waves of wailing sirens were making their way around the block, which caused Jongdae to wake up from his nap in the first place.

The view outside was dreary, but the dark clouds that gathered weren’t dripping rain yet. The sky did a great job of reflecting his current mood, Jongdae thought. A sickly pallor hovers both on his face and over the city. How hideous. He’s literally under the weather.

Jongdae scrunches his face as he feels an itch beginning in his nose. One ill-timed sneeze, and all the gunk in his oral and nasal cavities would come spewing out over his face and blankets, and yes, he is definitely still awake enough to _not_  want that. He tilts his face to the side to try to locate the tissue that slipped out of his nostrils and uses his shoulder to prop the paper to his nose. Of course, the soreness in his entire body decides to make itself known at that moment, and he winces when his neck let out an awfully loud crack.

He could just take the easy way out and take his hand out of the blankets to fish around for a new tissue to blow his nose into, but nah. He was too cozy—no, he meant he was in pain!—to attempt to reach outside of his burrito. The combination of three pillows and five blankets has been his home for four hours now, and he isn’t going to move out now.

A growl is emitted from his stomach. Jongdae curses. I’m still not going to move, he mentally relays to his stomach. His stomach growls even louder.

Disgruntled, Jongdae attempts to shift from his back to his side so he can go back to sleep and hopefully ignore his stomach tearing itself apart from inside out. He closes his eyes and he’s sure he blisses out for a solid ten seconds, but the sound of thunder ricochets through the air and his ears ring as the rain begins to patter on the glass. And now he’s awake.

Great. He’s back at square one. He’s hungry, he’s got snot dripping down his face, but worst of all, his brain is too tired to do anything to make him do anything to resemble a healthy, functioning member of society.

Wait, scratch being at square one. The sudden downpour of rain makes him realize that because he hasn’t relieved himself in a few hours, he has another problem, one that he definitely needs to get up for, and soon, unless he wants to be in a wet burrito.

Jongdae genuinely contemplates dying. His brain will shut off, and he won’t have to worry about pissing or eating or looking pretty since the mortician will be sure to wipe the boogers off his face. Fuck being sick, honestly, Jongdae thought. Fuck bacteria. Fuck Yixing for not snuggling with him when he was cold. Maybe Yixing’s body heat could have prevented the germs from infecting his body cells. Somehow.

It’s honestly Yixing’s fault that he’s starving in the first place, Jongdae justifies. The only reason he hadn’t got out of the blankets yet was that he was hoping that Yixing would come home after work with the meds, see Jongdae sleeping restlessly on the couch, and take pity on him. Yixing was a great bedside nurse. Jongdae gets spoonfed when Yixing is nursing him. Jongdae also gets full TV privileges when Yixing is nursing him. It’s awesome! But Yixing hasn’t been home for the past four hours, so Jongdae hasn’t moved for the past four hours, and his stomach is vying for attention it’s not going to get.

He tries to fall asleep for a second time, but the pounding of the rain is too distracting. He can feel his bladder pulsing as the water drips outside. Squeezing his legs together, he mentally prepares himself for the power-walk to the toilet.

As he gets his body upright, Jongdae hears the jangling of keys by the door. He freezes, and after a split-second consideration, he lies back down. As Yixing opens the door, he quickly rearranges his position inside the blanket, closes his eyes, and begins to snore lightly.

“Jongdae?” Yixing murmurs. Jongdae can hear him walking to the living room and around the couch. The light that he can discern from behind his eyelids suddenly disappears, and he can feel Yixing’s breath on his cheek.

Then a finger prods Jongdae’s side. Jongdae feigns another snore. “I know you’re awake.” Yixing sounds unamused. Damn.

Jongdae opens his eyes slowly, takes in Yixing, and blinks a few extra times for good measure. “Mrhhgh,” he offers, and immediately winces because his voice sounds like it harbors a family of frogs that decided to take up residence in his throat.

Yixing’s eyes soften. “Hey, sorry, did I actually wake you up? I have your medicine. And I bought some cans of chicken noodle soup while I was out. 

“Thanks,” Jongdae croaks. He coughs to clear his throat and smiles back up at Yixing. “Chicken noodle soup?”

Yixing cards his fingers through Jongdae’s hair. “Yeah, I’ll make some after I shower, okay? I think I’m coming down with something too.”

Jongdae sighs in assent, contented, and admires the view as Yixing gets up and walks away. He’s always been a thigh man.

The bathroom door shuts, and after a few moments, Jongdae hears the toilet flush. And then he remembers his current predicament, which is then made worse by Yixing turning on the shower water. Fuck. Jongdae really has to pee.

He slowly rolls off the couch, landing on his hands and knees. When he stands, it’s like everything in the room is rushing towards him, and he braces himself on the arm of the couch. When the room is finally still for a full minute, he hobbles toward the bathroom.

And of course, Yixing had locked the bathroom door when he went in earlier. Jongdae bemoans his boyfriend’s reserved nature that developed over living together as just roommates. He bangs on the door repeatedly until Yixing turns the shower pressure down. “Yixing! I need to piss, can you unlock the door?”

Jongdae waits patiently, sure that Yixing would pad over and open the door in all his naked glory, but the sound of water hitting ceramic resumes its previous volume. He furrows his brows. “Yixing?”

There’s no response. Rather, Yixing begins whistling. Loudly. Obnoxiously. Jongdae scowls and resumes banging on the door. “Yixing, open the door or I will piss in the kitchen sink!”

The whistling stops, but Yixing’s voice carries over the sound of the running water. “You wouldn’t dare,” Yixing pauses. “There are still dishes in the sink from breakfast.” Jongdae takes a second to look toward the kitchen and curses when he sees stacks of plates peeking over the sink. Yixing knew Jongdae well enough to know he wouldn’t wash the dishes when he was sick, and he definitely wasn’t going to wash them now just to relieve himself 

“Why are you not opening up?” Jongdae whines through the door. “You have no idea how badly I need to pee!”

“You’ve had all day to use the bathroom, Dae,” Yixing counters back. “I’ve wanted to enjoy this shower since I got rained on this morning! 

Jongdae grimaces. He really didn’t think he could break down the door if it came to it. “Xing,” he pleads, and then mutters, “I really am about to piss myself. Not that you would care.” Raising his voice, he continues. “You’re going to have to clean up after my mess, Xing. Remember? I’m sick?”

“... I’m almost done, Dae,” Yixing says exasperatedly. “Just give me a minute, you can wait a minute, right?”

Jongdae shifts from foot to foot as he hears Yixing finishing his shower routine. Finally, the water turns off, and Jongdae almost cries as he thinks about his soon-to-be-sweet release. The doorknob twists, and Jongdae steps back in anticipation. Yixing opens the door, nude sans the towel hanging low off his hips. Jongdae ignores the water droplets still glistening on Yixing’s skin and leans forward to give him a hug.

Yixing sidesteps him, and if it weren’t for the arm that he wraps around Jongdae, Jongdae would be sporting a bloody nose on the tiled floor. “Uh,” Jongdae lets out intelligently. “You could have just told me you didn’t want to get dirty…”

Jongdae is maneuvered toward the toilet by a firm Yixing. He tries to shake him off, but Yixing is right by his side and doesn’t budge. “Yixing, what are you doing—”

“You said you had to piss,” Yixing says calmly. “So piss.”

Jongdae tries to fix a level-headed stare at Yixing, but the toilet is right there, and _wow_ , did he mention he had to piss? Plus, it’s not like Yixing hasn’t seen his body before. He lets out a groan and pulls down his flannel pants. “You’re so weird,” he finally manages to reply. Standing there with his dick in his hand—with Yixing right behind him—feels strange, but Jongdae feels like he shouldn’t start yet. Like he can’t start yet.

As he hesitates, Yixing sneaks a hand across his navel, and Jongdae gasps. Yixing presses closer to Jongdae’s back, and Jongdae can feel the residual shower heat emanating from Yixing’s body. A small amount of pressure applied from Yixing’s hand makes Jongdae cry out, and he leaks a little until he can’t anymore.

He’s about to throw Yixing off in frustration, but the other man trails another hand up to cup his face. “Do you trust me?” Yixing asks softly.

And as badly as Jongdae needs to relieve himself, his cock is hardening by the second, anticipating another kind of release. Resigned, Jongdae breathes, “I trust you." 

“Can you hold it in?”

“... I think so.”

“Good. I’m going to touch you now,” Yixing tells him, and the words go right into Jongdae’s skin. He bares his neck in permission, and Yixing begins pressing his lips to the soft skin below. The hand cradling Jongdae’s face from behind makes its way down to where Jongdae’s hand is still positioned over his crotch while Yixing’s other hand begins massaging patterns into Jongdae’s lower stomach.

Jongdae clenches his bladder. Even if he tried to piss now, his arousal would prevent him from enjoying it. Still, knowing that doesn’t stop him from feeling like he’s going to explode all over himself.

Yixing clasps his fingers over Jongdae’s wrist and pulls until his hand is at his chest. He does the same for Jongdae’s other hand and crosses the wrists in an X-shape. “Keep them there,” he tells Jongdae. Jongdae feels exposed, upper body restrained and bottom extremities open to the air with his pants pooled around his feet. He trusts Yixing though, so he only voices his relief with a sigh when Yixing finally takes hold of his dick.

His brain is content enough to stop thinking. Yixing’s fingers are nimble and grasp his dick with just enough intensity to draw out drops of precome, which Yixing smear around the tip with his thumb. Yixing brings his hands up, and Jongdae licks them, wet, dripping until it feels like his mouth is full of cotton.

When Yixing returns his attention to his cock, Jongdae begins to rut back and forth without abandon into Yixing’s warm, slippery hands. Yixing lets him, encourages him by pressing praises into his skin, by rocking his own hips against Jongdae’s ass. Somewhere along the way, he’s lost his towel, and Jongdae can feel his dick in direct contact with his back.

The other wet hand pushes its way up Jongdae’s t-shirt, rubbing his nipples through the soft fabric. Jongdae keens, arching into the touch, and Yixing brings his fingers back to Jongdae’s mouth. “Can I—?” Jongdae attempts to ask, but his lips are too dry. “Let me—” he tries again, but when Yixing’s fingers stay out of reach, Jongdae surges forward and takes two into his mouth. Yixing allows it, fucking his fingers in the warmth from tip to knuckle before withdrawing back down to his torso. The shirt is pulled into his mouth as Yixing brushes his wet fingers back and forth against his nipples, tweaking them until they pebble. 

Jongdae’s head is spinning, and he’s sure it’s due to a combination of his fever, the still-steamy bathroom, Yixing’s talented hands, the pleasure he’s getting from chasing release alongside Yixing. He’s disconnecting and reconnecting and floating in the middle and too much is going on; he loses himself, white spurts decorating Yixing’s hands and the floor around them.

It’s not over yet, though: he’s shaking and his knees become weak and Yixing is kind enough to prop him up from behind. “Yixing…” Jongdae tries to say, but his mouth and brain aren’t in sync. Yixing gets what he’s saying anyway, and directs the stream of piss that’s slowly flowing out of his dick to the toilet bowl.

They stand there for what seems like forever, Jongdae leaning back, boneless, on a steady Yixing who holds him from behind. Thinking coherent thoughts is a challenge Jongdae isn’t quite ready for, so he instead focuses on how there’s something oddly intimate about this position. He could almost imagine an impressionistic painting displaying this scene, capturing his satisfaction alongside a caricature of Yixing’s safe embrace.

After his dick twitches with the last of the urine, Jongdae turns around and kisses Yixing, groaning when their teeth collide with the messiness of it all. “You’re so good to me,” he murmurs into Yixing’s throat, into the dips of his collarbones, the curve of his shoulder.

Yixing indulges his kisses for a few moments before guiding him into the shower, turning the knob so that they’re both sprayed in warmth. “I like taking care of you,” he admits. “But you knew that already, didn’t you?”

Jongdae hums. “Yeah, I did. I do.” He interlaces his fingers with Yixing’s own and revels in Yixing’s closeness. “I missed you today.”

“I missed you too, but you didn’t see me begging you to open the door just to be in the same room as you,” Yixing laughs, beginning to massage the shampoo into Jongdae’s scalp with his free hand.

“Hey, I really did need to piss!” Jongdae pretends to scowl. “You’re the one who wanted to hold my dick while I peed.” He trails off, closing his eyes as Yixing trails down, kneading at his neck with soapy hands. In the comfortable silence, he feels he could almost fall asleep standing, especially with Yixing’s hands working adeptly at the soreness permeating his body. As much as he had already slept the day away, he’s sure there would be room for another nap. Preferably with Yixing. But before he could start to coax Yixing to bed, he should probably take care of Yixing’s own enduring stiffy.

Jongdae doesn’t dare to start until after Yixing rinses the suds out of his hair. Lowering the shower pressure, he grins helplessly at Yixing as he pushes him against the tiled wall. “I’ll try not to choke on your dick and drown this time,” he promises as he settles onto his knees, and his heart soars at Yixing’s chuckling.

Yixing’s erection is impressive even when it’s not completely hard, and Jongdae vows to give it the love it deserves. Using the running water to work past the friction between his hands and Yixing’s skin, he alternates between thumbing Yixing at his head and stroking down the shaft. Leaning forward, he lets his dick slip halfway into his mouth, content to let the weight sit against his tongue as he applies pressure to Yixing’s balls with his fingers. He begins to suck on the delicate tip, losing himself in a trance while pushing the skin further back with his tongue.

Hands find their way to his hair, and Jongdae looks up when Yixing gently pulls on the fistful of strands. Yixing’s eyes are dark, and Jongdae tries to smirk around his cock before giving up and letting more of Yixing in. Returning his attention to the task at hand isn’t so hard with Yixing’s noises giving him the encouragement he needs to relax the back of his throat. He makes his own noises back, raising his soft palate to allow for more room with each grunt. A spurt of precome leaks into Jongdae’s mouth, and he backs off, swallowing the taste, before renewing his efforts.

Once his lips are far down enough to reach his fisted hand, he swallows again, clenching his throat around Yixing’s dick until he’s pleased with the groan Yixing emits. At full hardness, Yixing is easier to take on completely, so Jongdae bobs up and down, sucking harder as he tries to get him off. It’s almost mindless at this point, and he forces himself deeper, grabbing at Yixing’s ass to bring himself closer to his abdomen.

One of Yixing’s hands slips down and grasps firmly at Jongdae’s shoulder. Jongdae likes it better like this, likes that weight confirming that Yixing is there. He feels grounded, and the heady feeling that was starting to overcome him subsides. He slows his pace, focusing more on the tip and making up for the difference with a tightly clenched grip.

He knows Yixing is about to come when his whimpers get more frantic, high-pitched, and he prepares to swallow—except Yixing pulls him off his cock and paints his face with his cum instead.

Jongdae stays seated until Yixing’s eyes flutter open. “Oh, God, Jongdae,” he pants, pulling Jongdae up against his chest. “I really needed that, but are you okay?”

“I’m fine! I just got carried away there at the end.” Jongdae worries at his bottom lip. “I don’t know what happened. Thanks for bringing me back.”

Sheepishly, Yixing swipes at the cum on his face with his thumb. “We have to get you out and dressed, I forgot that you’re sick.”

“Don’t worry,” Jongdae begs. He increases the shower pressure, and they shiver together as the water chills in compensation. He leans forward into Yixing’s mouth, parting his lips until Yixing reciprocates with his tongue, kissing him until the water is sufficiently warm again.

Yixing places his hand against Jongdae’s jaw and slips his thumb in his mouth just far enough for Jongdae to lick the finger clean. “Sorry you’re dirty again,” he says, almost mortified.

Jongdae shrugs with his eyes closed, letting the water cascade onto his face, letting Yixing wipe away any remaining traces of seed. “Not your fault,” he mumbles. “I’m the one who sucked your dick in the shower.” He presses forward again, aiming for Yixing’s lips, but he catches his jaw instead. Yixing bestows a simple kiss to his forehead as a substitute and gets him out of the shower.

He gets towelled down, courtesy of Yixing, and lotion is quickly rubbed into his skin before clothes are flung into his face. “Put these on,” Yixing orders, and hurriedly dresses himself before leaving the room.

Once Jongdae figures out which body parts go into which holes, he pads out, clad in a generic sweatshirt and sweatpant combo. He follows the sound of plates being washed into the kitchen, and seats himself on the counter next to where Yixing is stacking the last of the dishes. “You made chicken noodle soup,” Jongdae notices, smile growing painfully wide as Yixing pours the hot liquid into their special bowls reserved for sick days like this one.

“Of course I did, I’m going to take care of you like I always do. Because you like it,” Yixing reminds him, blowing at the soup. “But this isn’t just for you, okay? I like taking care of you, too. Except I think I’m sick now, too,” he continues as he brings the spoon up to Jongdae’s mouth. “So I don’t know how well I’ll be able to baby you for the next few days.” 

A grin spreads its way across Jongdae’s face as he chews and swallows. “You’ll just have to let me take care of you!”

Yixing snorts good-naturedly. “You can’t even stand on your own feet right now, Dae, that’s how tired you are. How about we just sleep after this? No more sex until we both get better.”

Jongdae frowns at his dangling feet, knowing that they would betray him if he tried to stand at that moment, and accepts the next spoonful Yixing offers him. “No sex?”

“... Maybe some sex,” Yixing concedes. “But we have to get better fast so we can get back to working. Our water bill’s going to be high this time around.”

“You’re going to cave in to sex before I do!” Jongdae accuses, maybe with too much enthusiasm for someone who was supposedly sick. “But some sex and some more cuddling, and you have yourself a deal,” he promises.

“Cuddling isn’t going to cure us, Dae.”

“Neither is sex!”

“Fucking will make us more tired!”

“And cuddling—after we’ve had sex and we're tired!—will give me a reason to keep you resting beside me until we get better.”

“... Point taken. You get your cuddling.”


End file.
